


too easy

by bishounen_curious



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gentleness, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Outdoor Sex, Sexual Content, Suicidal Thoughts, Unsafe Sex, where they're 18+
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 02:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12245676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bishounen_curious/pseuds/bishounen_curious
Summary: By the riverbank, under the stars, it's too easy. Kaworu indulges him every way he wants. He says I love you too readily to someone as disgusting as Shinji is.





	too easy

“I’m saying, I love you.”

This is too easy. Nothing has ever been so simple as these words sound, chime through gossamer thin lips. It’s too dark to see them, see how they quirk into a coquettish smile. Discern the blue veins in that pallid, sickly looking skin. The gore colored eyes narrowed, feline. He cannot see Kaworu’s face, but he knows from experience that his lips curl smug about something that Shinji will never be able to wrap his mind around.

He doesn’t know if he wants to understand. If he ever does, maybe he won’t like the truth.

“Shinji, do you love me?”

Crickets chirp around them, frogs croak in the riverbank. He feels ants crawl up his hand, worms wriggle in the earth beneath their seated bodies. It’s cold for July, but the humidity doesn’t dwindle, even past midnight. He sweats in the armpits of his t-shirt, the small of his back, his upper lip. Places he is self-conscious about. Places he wants Kaworu to touch.

That’s why they’re here, anyway.

“Of course I do.” Shinji answers, voice shaky. He sounds so fucking stupid. 

“I’m glad.” Kaworu’s laughter is gentle. Perfect. A perfect tone, unblemished. He says such pretty things all the time, says such pretty things about him. About Shinji. About how he is convinced they were destined to meet, prophesied by starlight to grow close. _I was born to meet you._ It’s beyond poetry. And he makes it sound so obvious. 

Kaworu’s palm is cold as it wraps around his wrist. Supple and reptilian at the same time.

Shinji’s eyes start to leak and his throat clogs up with mucus and low self-esteem.

It’s Pavlovian at this point. Kaworu touches him and he cries. Kaworu describes his heart and Shinji’s stomach twists up in nausea, in love. When they kiss, when they fuck — Shinji imagines that everything isn’t terrible, that somewhere, in another universe or reality, he is content to let himself be treasured. Recognize the value in his own psyche, his own flesh and blood.

Strange things utter between them as Kaworu strips him, folds his clothes neatly into a pile atop a smooth rock, to not be sullied by the mud and dirt. His breath does not race, his heart does not thud as he makes idle chitchat with Shinji about anything and everything. Today he heard a piano concerto that reminded him of Shinji. The notes were so melancholy. Jumbled together, awkward, but they made sense. They were beautiful. I want to teach you how to play the notes sometime soon.

Shinji wobbles, nods. He wants to practice the piano more with Kaworu. Likes their shoulders bumping together as they squish close enough on the bench, working the left and right sides of the keyboard respectively.

When they touch like this, Shinji likes it, but differently. Pianos don’t make him anxious. Saliva does — sweat and semen, too. How his body shudders, reacts, It’s disgusting. Baseline, feral — feels like one of the stray cats that leer at them from the shadows, the bushes around the riverbank in this abandoned park. Starving, skeletal cats glower at him, judge him, as he can’t stop his body from behaving more animalistic than they do as they scrounge up mice and rats for a midnight meal.

He cries again when Kaworu’s mouth swallows the worst part of him all the way down to the hilt.

He chokes on breath he doesn’t deserve. Clenches dead patches of grass, get dirt beneath his fingernails as Kaworu worships him. He hates how weak his voice sounds. How broken. He knows what a disgrace he is. Being reminded that he’s trash in front of the only person who thinks otherwise is worse than death.

Kaworu’s voice muffles, vibrates. Asks if he wants it to be over now or later. Shinji sobs, chooses _later_ , and Kaworu stops. Kisses him on the mouth. Shinji hates how he tastes, so Kaworu must too. He whispers how delicious he is, and Shinji cannot help but want to wretch. Being lied to hurts deeper than any bruise, any cut.

Tender. Kaworu touches him tenderly like he is a crystal figure in a display case. Or a dead butterfly, pinned and crisp, prepared to crack and turn to dust with one wrong move. A prize in a collector's eye. A momento venerated. Shinji smears the snot and tears onto his forearm as he lets his legs be hooked around Kaworu’s waist. The river sounds far away as Kaworu tries to continue their one-sided conversation. About music. About how Shinji is strong and brave. How he deserves a father that treats him right. A litany on empathy. On depression. Why he should smile more, accept his place in the heart of others. Why the world shouldn’t matter as much to him. 

Shinji half-listens. A part of him wants Kaworu to shut his mouth and fuck him like he means it. 

A part. More like his entirety. He says as much. The way he asks is unconfident, cringeworthy. He should just drown himself in the river.

Kaworu fills him up. Every cell. Every idle thought. Shinji’s mouth opens in a silent scream.

Filthy. This is wrong. Someone will find them, two sinners in the park, disgustingly sweating into each other, touching each other, lanky bodies molded into something that turns polite gazes. Shinji wants those eyes on him, if not for the briefest millisecond of incredulity before disgust averts them. He throbs with the shame of that desire. Kaworu continues to stretch him until it hurts. His voice still chimes purely, but it’s staccato. It makes him sound human.

It comes faster every time. The release, the whimpers, the twisting of his limbs and arching and of course, fresh tears. It hurts. It hurts so good. Shinji’s body comes, empties onto Kaworu’s cold stomach. Lithe fingers stroke his wet cheeks. “Do you feel better?” Kaworu is still thrusting. So gentle.

Yes. No. Maybe. Shinji doesn’t know. What exactly does it mean to feel better? Instead, he speaks grossly. “I want you to do it inside.”

Kaworu’s laughter punctuates his movements. “What a strange request.”

Shinji draws blood on his own palm when he feels wet heat spurt inside. It’s everything he’s ever wanted. It’s absolutely nothing at the same time.

Labored breathing and buzzing mosquitoes. Shinji knows his skin must be covered in welting bites by now. Stickiness oozes out of him as he tries to clean himself off with a tissue packet he kept in his pants pocket. Kaworu hums a melody Shinji doesn’t recognize as he kisses up and down the back of his neck.

“During moments like these,” Kaworu monologues into his shoulder blades, “it is too easy for me to forget the hectic rhythm of our lives, Shinji. Is it the same for you?”

Shinji shrugs. “N-no.”

“How sadly interesting.” Kaworu nuzzles his ghostly face into Shinji’s bones. “I love that about you, Shinji. Your brutal honesty. The candidness. You never hide your true self from me.”

All of this. It’s too easy. Sluggish and warm and scared, Shinji curls into himself and lets himself cry. Ugly and loud. Exactly how he is, bared for Kaworu to sneer at.

“I want to go back home.” Shinji snuffles. “Go home with you, Kaworu.”

“Of course. Anything you desire, my love.”

All of this is too fucking easy. He dreads the day when everything will complicate.

**Author's Note:**

> come, sweet death


End file.
